Not the neighbor you would have chosen.
Not the easy one.
Not the safe one.

The command does not ask your opinion.

Your neighbor is the interruption
standing in the middle of your life,
carrying need you did not schedule
and wounds you do not want to touch.

They are not theoretical.
They are here.

You do not get to edit the word neighbor
into something manageable.

And then Jesus goes further.

Love your enemies.

Not tolerate.
Not keep your distance.
Love.

The one who wronged you.
The one who made themselves your opponent.
The one you have already judged unworthy of mercy.

Here, love loses every excuse.

As yourself.

With the same patience you demand.
The same fierce defense of dignity.
The same grace you rely on when you fail.

If we truly are the Christians we say we are,
this is no longer a suggestion.

Faith is not private.
Holiness is not clean.
Love is not proven by words.

Your neighbor and your enemy
stand directly in your path,
placed there by a God
who refuses to let love remain abstract.

We do not choose who they are.
We choose only this.
Whether our confession is true
or merely convenient.